The Book of Never: The Complete Series

by Ashley Capes

  “You still might get them back,” a voice said.

  A short man sat on a log, tossing a pair of die with lazy throws. Like his fellows, the Hanik soldier was dressed in nondescript greens and browns that suited the forest, but also like the others, his weapons were wrapped by black coverings. Further, like most of his companions, this man’s Marlosi was clear.

  “That would be welcome,” Never said.

  “And don’t worry about Gnils; he’s always like that.”

  “Must be a wonderful companion to have around the campfire – I take it he’s at least good with his bow?”

  The man grinned. “That he is.” He tucked his die away and stood. “Let’s get you something to eat then.”

  Never followed the man to his saddle bags, where he rummaged around and drew out salted beef and dark bread. “That’ll have to do for now,” he said. “Rest of us have already eaten.”

  “No trouble – it looks more filling than water and berries.” Never returned to the log and devoured the food. He’d just sat back when the prince reappeared – setting sentries and instructing the rest of the men, perhaps a dozen in all, to take their rest. There was more; the man mentioned Karlaf, but Never couldn’t understand well enough. Hopefully the prince was sending someone to look for him. It was not a good sign that Karlaf had not been seen.

  The prince continued, and the man with the dice translated for Never. “At dawn we strike; ending our long search. Be ready, for we do not stop until every last traitor is eradicated and when we return, those who assisted Gedus in any way will be put to the sword. His vassals will be stripped of their land and homes, from tailor to apprentice, no matter the role!” he finished in a near shout. He took a breath. “Now rest and be at peace with what we do, for it is the will of the true king that we fulfil tomorrow.”

  The remaining men muttered agreement.

  Prince Jenisan approached Never. “You will help us or you will be killed as a spy, understood?” The prince looked to Never’s translator. “Finn – if he gives you any reason to doubt his story kill him.”

  The man strode away.

  Finn chuckled. “Looks like I’ve got first watch.”

  Never raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’d consider ‘falling asleep’ a reason for you to kill me?”

  “He’s in a fair mood, so probably not.”

  “Good.” Never found a patch of earth that appeared soft enough yet not so close to the fire as to steal someone’s spot, then stretched out. Branches and leaves obscured the stars above. The rustling and muttering of men seeking their rest filled the clearing, then a hiss as someone doused the blaze, dropping a darkness over them.

  The river murmured beneath the sounds and he closed his eyes to wait for sleep or dawn, whichever came first.

  *

  “Wake up, stranger.”

  Never rolled from his side, an ache in his neck easing as he did. Finn’s wide grin and unshaven face loomed over Never in the grey light of dawn. Never rose. The camp was being broken down, horses fed, bedrolls stowed away and small parcels of food handed out. Conversation remained hushed; some of the men – a dozen he estimated – were already departing. Lead scouts.

  Finn took out a honey-stick to chew on then offered Never a piece of hard, flat bread. The numbing agent brought Karlaf’s absence to mind. Finn gestured to where Jenisan approached. “He’s going to give you a few choices – don’t rush your answers.”

  The prince arrived, Gnils in tow, before Never could respond. Both men wore grim expressions. Gnils held his bow and Jenisan wore an ornate breastplate beneath his tunic. He, like the rest of the men, bore red armbands.

  “We are about to attack a rebel camp, hidden across the river. They outnumber us two to one but we intend to wipe them out nevertheless. If you truly have travelled with Elina as you say, you will have earned her trust. If so, know that her wishes are mine and further, that they serve your own nation. These traitors foster war by aiding the Vadiya in their conquest of Marlosa and seek to involve Hanik – I will not have it.”

  Never nodded. “Of course.”

  “Here then are the options I present you. Assist us. You will be given your weapons but expected to help kill all you encounter within the camp, be they man, woman or child. I will pair you with Finn, whose orders have not changed. He will kill you if you give him cause to doubt you.”

  “And my other choice?”

  “You will be given your weapons and that black,” the prince said as he pointed to a familiar horse, “and allowed to continue your journey to the city. I will not have anyone with us who is not committed to our path. However, if you are truly known to Elina, then I expect you will join us. If you cannot do as I have asked you will leave immediately.”

  It was not a subtle offer. Even if Gnils’ bow hadn’t twitched ever so slightly at the mention of the horse, Never could see the true offer. Before he took two steps toward the black the prince would have him shot. And the mare had belonged to the traveller he met yesterday, of which there was no sign, which answered the question of whether he had been friend or foe.

  The prince clearly had spies on his mind.

  “Give me my knives and I will even the odds for you,” Never said.

  Chapter 12.

  The traitor’s camp lay concealed in a deep depression beyond the Rinsa, ringed by thick stands of elm – which, from certain angles – appeared as a green wall. The rebels had fortified their camp with a ditch and a low earthen wall, caught via glimpses between the trunks. A few buildings stood to the rear, faint smoke rising from their chimneys. Men stood sentry, making periodic signals to one another with mirrors or polished steel where they’d been stationed at varying points further up the slope. These men lay in turn below Never’s own position where he crouched in the scratchy undergrowth beside Finn.

  Jenisan and the rest of his men were spread along the ridge in pairs, each waiting to perform their pre-arranged task.

  “There. Jenisan is moving,” Finn said.

  Four figures began their descent, circling the ridge to come up behind the camp. Off to Never’s left, two more men slipped toward the first sentry, red armbands flashing as they moved.

  Never wore his own, given to him by Finn. In the heat of the battle it might have been feasible for Jenisan’s men to need to identify their comrades at a glance but Never, being the only man from Marlosi, ought to have stood out anyway, for better or worse. Still, it paid to be careful now and then.

  “Hurry it up,” Finn whispered, eyes fixed on the men converging upon the first sentry. As yet, the traitor hadn’t noticed Jenisan’s man creeping closer, but it wouldn’t be long. Yet the sentry’s head turned at a sound Never couldn’t make out.

  One of Jenisan’s men stood and released an arrow, all in one motion.

  It struck the sentry in the chest and then the second raider fell upon him. Jenisan’s man snatched up the piece of polished steel and, using a tree as partial cover, angled it back toward the camp. He passed his hand before it rapidly, giving a blinking quality to the light. Emulating a distress call?

  Another sentry further down the slope raised an alarm.

  Never blinked. “What are they doing?”

  Finn slapped him on the back. “Exactly what we want. Look.” He pointed to the rear of the enemy camp. Jenisan and his men were creeping closer, benefitting from the distraction at the camp’s entryway, as more and more men came to the earthen wall, some with bows, others holding pikes.

  One rear sentry kept his post but Jenisan dragged the man to the forest floor. When the prince rose, alone, he continued toward the rear buildings, its ditch cut deep within the treeline. The four attackers were soon lost from sight.

  “Our turn,” Finn said.

  Never caught his arm. “Wait – what is happening?”

  “The prince is going to drive the Lord Gedus and his scum toward us, funnelling them through that gate, where we can pick them off.”

  “How?”

 
; “Fire.”

  Never stiffened. “That’s madness; he could burn half the forest.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Come on.” Finn pulled him along the ridge and down a narrow animal trail a little ways. “Here. Now we wait.”

  “For what? To be burnt to cinders?” Never asked.

  “Trust him,” was all Finn said.

  “I’m glad one of us does,” Never muttered. Yet he couldn’t simply flee – Finn was friendly enough, but the man wasn’t going to let that happen. And any sudden movement might draw fire from the camp.

  Trapped.

  He sighed. His best chance was to win the battle – and battle tended to be one of those things he preferred to avoid, since there was an abnormally high chance of dying in them.

  Below, men were calling to the now-dead sentry, but Jenisan’s fellow simply continued to flash the signal. Finally, the second sentry began his approach, weapon drawn. A rebel from the compound dashed from the protection of the wall, taking the second sentry’s position.

  “Fool,” Finn muttered, but he was grinning.

  The traitor continued his climb, eyes roving as he neared the trap – unaware the second of Jenisan’s men had already outflanked him.

  An arrow sped across the distance between them and the rebel dropped.

  More cries of alarm came from the camp – someone shouting for Lord Gedus and another ordering men into the trees, and yet a third voice arguing with the other two. Confusion and alarm – exactly what Jenisan wanted.

  Yet it did seem like there were more than a score of traitors in the camp. Something had changed or Jenisan had made a mistake – but close to thirty men now gathered in the dirt courtyard between buildings and tents.

  Finn muttered a curse. “Can’t turn back now.”

  Black smoke billowed from the camp’s rear – rising from four positions at once. Orange tongues of flame flashed between buildings and by the time the first cry of alarm was raised, half the first building was alight with the others not far behind.

  “What makes it burn so quickly?”

  “Jenisan has pitch back there,” Finn said, slipping further down the slope. “Now it’s nearly our turn.”

  The prince’s archers were already firing on the men at the walls as a large man in heavy armour strode from one of the burning buildings, roaring orders. Lord Gedus, it seemed. Men sprang into action, some seeking water, others trying to slip around the spreading flames while yet more headed out the gate and into the trees, weapons ready.

  Never sighed. Jenisan’s ambush was sprung, but would they be able to finish what they’d started? Already smoke was spreading across the camp, obscuring their vision. Finn had angled their path toward a small group of the Hanik traitors. He led, throwing a knife into the men and then swung his sword with a battle cry.

  Never covered Finn’s flank by slashing at the man who’d caught the knife in his shoulder. Never cut into the fellow’s arm and then drove his other blade into the rebel’s chest as the man spun in response to the first cut.

  Blood flowed. Never’s own blood stirred but he turned for another enemy.

  Finn stood over two bodies, a small cut in his forearm trickling blood. Never ignored the pulsing in his veins. Not this time. Finn waved down the slope with his sword as a billow of smoke passed. More figures struggled below, bowstrings snapped and flames roared, ash and fire rising to tangle in the canopy.

  Never leapt after Finn, pulling another knife as he did.

  The battle waged over several fronts, he knew that, but it was constricted to his own world of smoke and tree trunks. He soon lost sight of Finn, pushed back along the slope by a group of three men, two with pikes. He felled one with a throw, but the other two spread to flank him.

  One of the Hanik bore a graze on his forehead, as if he’d fallen in the smoke perhaps.

  No.

  He didn’t need to use it. Never gave ground, ducking from a pike thrust, then spinning to use a tree for cover. The pike slammed into the bark and the man cursed.

  The weapon was caught in the wood.

  Never sprang forth.

  He slashed down, severing arteries in the man’s forearm then twisted away from the second man’s sword. Never sidestepped as he flipped a knife to throw – and something caught his foot.

  Never crashed to the loam. He scrambled over a body – red sash tied around the arm. The swordsman followed; leaving the pikeman somewhere in the drifting smoke. Never found one knee as the traitor attacked again, sword clashing with his parrying dagger. Never slashed out with his second blade and the man sprang back.

  The rebel was breathing hard, coughing from the smoke. Never’s own throat burned. He found his feet as the pikeman reappeared, one arm tied with a makeshift bandage and the other gripping his pike.

  Unpleasant odds.

  He feinted a throw with one of his knives, giving them pause. Yet they advanced, driving Never back. One man grinned and Never frowned as he circled. What would –

  Pain erupted in his side.

  The forest spun as he was cast to the ground. Something white-hot had been lodged in his thigh – then a figure was upon him, clawing at him with bloody hands. Never fought a wild-eyed, bearded rebel; his wound sapping at his focus. But he dropped a blade to catch his enemy’s wrist, only for his other arm to be pinned by the man’s knee. The Hanik sat astride Never’s chest and raised a hammer taken from his belt.

  Blood surged.

  It shot forth from his thigh and splashed across his attacker. The man screamed as he fell back. Already the bearded rebel’s own blood poured from his hands – his face white above the spray of crimson. He scrambled back across the leaves, rolling away as if to escape... but it was too late. Never found his feet and halted the flow of blood from his hip with a cutting motion of his arm. Then he flipped a knife into hand, sliced into his opposite palm and flung a stream of red at the closing pikeman and his poorly bandaged forearm.

  Blood met blood.

  The hunger was so great now that the pikeman’s legs turned to water. The man collapsed, clutching at the blood spurting from his arm. Never snapped his wrist, breaking the flow, and spun, but the swordsman had already fled, his stampede of footfalls lost in the screams and shouts.

  A wave of impressions and memories washed over him.

  Big hands covering his own as they showed him how to hold the hammer, where to aim at the glowing band of metal on the forge – yet interrupting this moment came a pair of smiling eyes as a young Hanik woman laughed and then spun into a dance across a grassy hill, her pale pink dress twirling around her legs.

  “Enough,” Never cried.

  He fell back against a tree, gasping for air. Smoke thickened. Somewhere, fire roared. The blood flow from his thigh continued to seep and the protruding dagger didn’t help. Clenching his teeth, Never tore it free – biting through his tongue as he did.

  But with his eyes squeezed shut he slowed the flow of blood – just as he did on his hands with their map of scars – only he could not stop it fully. It was enough to stumble to a corpse and tear into the man’s cloak, aiming for a relatively blood-free section of material.

  Then he wound the strips around his thigh and the inside of his leg, tying it off as tight as he could. “Gods.” He put weight on it and nearly collapsed. Catching a nearby tree, Never hobbled around the trunk and caught his breath.

  Bright flames swept the compound and devoured the trees around it. Men fought before the blaze, their weapons flashing orange between swirling smoke. The fire was out of control – all who stayed would die. He took a step back, but paused.

  Two figures fought in the chaos surrounding the camp, swords clashing in the bottom of the depression. Lord Gedus’ armour caught the colour of flames so he appeared to be struggling in a suit of fire against a dark shape covered in soot and smoke and whose black cloak and black-wrapped sword seemed to eat up all the light.

  Jenisan.

  Never swore – he couldn’t risk it.
<
br />   If he stayed to help, outrunning the flames would be left to chance. Without two good legs, he was too slow.

  And yet... Saving the prince would put the man deeply in his debt and he’d have the run of the Royal Hanik library, surely. And any other resource he might desire. Besides which, Elina would never forgive him if he didn’t at least try.

  Never crept down the slope, wincing with every step, stopping to pry a hunk of stone from the earth.

  Again the prince and Lord Gedus met, blades clashing. Gedus was the heavier of the two, bearing down on Jenisan, but the prince was quicker, twisting out of a lock and pivoting to slash at the man’s armour. The blow had little effect and when they crossed swords again, Jenisan was thrown back, tripping on a log.

  Gedus charged after the fallen prince and raised his blade. Never hurled the hunk of stone and collapsed.

  The rock crashed into Gedus’ side, knocking him off balance.

  Jenisan struck, snake-like with his blade, driving it up through a chink in the Lord’s armour. Gedus fell back with a roar. Jenisan rose and followed the man down, putting his full weight on the sword. Gedus’ body twitched and then he was still.

  The prince heaved a sigh then spun, surveying the forest.

  Never signalled from where he sat. Darkness crept up on him and he swallowed, his throat raw. Flames rose behind the prince and the man started forward.

  Never sank to the ground and saw no more.

  Chapter 13.

  Never woke to hushed voices and a rhythmic jolting. Sun beat against his back, singeing his neck as he laid slumped against... someone’s back, a tunic of green? And the strong scent of animal sweat. Horse? He straightened until something tugged on his wrists.

  He blinked; eyes slow to adjust.

  Tied to a horse.

  “Never?”

  Luis’ voice – that was whose back he leant against.

  “I’m awake,” he croaked. He twisted his neck. Other men rode the forest trail around him, weary-looking fellows still wearing their red armbands. Most also bore bandages and bloodstains on their clothing. One man’s hair had been burnt down to his scalp.